Lost and Found
by unicorn-skydancer08
Summary: Something has gone terribly wrong between Terence and Tumnus, and Terence ends up taking refuge with the Beavers. Now Tumnus is on a desperate search for his old mate. The Beavers must convince Terence to come out of hiding and make amends.
1. Chapter 1

**LOST AND FOUND**

_In my opinion, there is hardly anything worse than losing a friend, and a very close friend at that. _

_But even losing a friend to death is more bearable than losing a friend due to a fallout. Terence and Tumnus, as you can tell from my previous stories, are extremely good friends—but imagine what would happen if something happened between them, if they somehow "stopped" being friends. I decided to try it. As always, reviews are highly desired, and highly expected! _

**

* * *

Characters (except Terence) © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Terence and Story © unicorn-skydancer08 **

_**All rights reserved. **_

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* * *

CHAPTER 1**

"Who in the world could that be, at this hour?" demanded Beaver.

He and his wife, Mrs. Beaver, had just settled down to an inviting dinner of fish, hot bread, and stewed vegetables, when there sounded a sudden, sharp knock on their front door.

"I'll get that, dear." Mrs. Beaver carefully set aside the knife she used for the butter on the bread, and shuffled her way toward the door. When she unfastened the latch and drew the door aside, she was surprised to see their visitor was Terence. Terence, a young unicorn recently turned human, was wrapped in a long, heavy black cloak, and he looked very anxious and very troubled about something. Mrs. Beaver quickly got over her astonishment at the sight of the young man, and she smiled and greeted him very warmly, "Well, hello, Terence!"

Terence did not return her smile. He kept glancing over his shoulder, as if fearing there was someone, or something, coming after him.

When he was looking Mrs. Beaver properly in the face, he said in a low, penitent voice, "Mrs. Beaver, forgive me. I don't mean to intrude—"

"Oh, no, no, dear," Mrs. Beaver gently reassured him, "it's quite all right. Do come inside, where it's warmer, and make yourself at home."

Terence didn't hesitate to accept her invitation.

Once the young man had stepped over the threshold, Mrs. Beaver took a moment to stick her head outside and glance around, but, as night had fallen by that time, it was too dark to really see anything. A thin gray mist shrouded the neighboring wood and veiled the ground. Everything was very quiet; no one else seemed to be lurking about.

There didn't appear any signs of real danger—none that Mrs. Beaver could make out.

Mrs. Beaver just shook her head, wondering what could possibly have Terence in such distress, and retreated into the dam, closing the door firmly after her.

"Well, Terence, my boy!" said Beaver congenially, as Terence approached the crude kitchen table. "You're just in time for supper. Would you care to join us?"

"Thanks, Beaver, but it's not food that I had in mind," Terence said, pulling his cloak from his shoulders and brushing his long white bangs out of his face.

Beaver stared at him in disbelief. "What, are you fasting?"

"No, hiding."

Mrs. Beaver, who had joined up with them by then, asked bewilderedly, "Hiding from what, dear?"

Terence said nothing, but only passed his cloak to her, before taking a tentative seat on one of the spare stools. Mrs. Beaver promptly went to hang up the cloak on a nearby hook on the wall, before she resumed her spot at the table next to her husband. As they were beavers, and everything within the dam was suited to their size, and as Terence was at least twice their height, the man's knees could be easily seen over the edge of the table while he sat. But the Beavers paid no mind to this, and Terence didn't seem to care.

"Fish, Terence?" Mrs. Beaver offered kindly. "Just recently caught, and fresh off the stove!"

Terence shook his head. "No, thank you, Mrs. Beaver."

"Are you sure, dear?"

"It's delicious," Beaver added enticingly. "Nice and tender, fried to perfection, with just a little dash of parsley and chives added for extra flavor."

Again, Terence shook his head. "No," he said, "I'm not really that hungry, anyway."

Beaver shook his head himself, and chided, "No wonder you're always so skinny, boy."

In truth, Terence really had quite a healthy appetite. Yet somehow, he always managed to remain on the lean side, although he was in excellent shape, very strapping and limber. And even though Terence had eaten nothing for some time, and he'd traveled a fair distance to Beaversdam, without any food or drink, somehow his hunger seemed to have vanished.

As Beaver reached for his glass of wheat beer, Mrs. Beaver said to Terence, "You mentioned you are in hiding, Terence. May I ask again just what it is you're trying to hide from?"

"It's not really a some_thing_, Mrs. Beaver," Terence murmured, "as it is more of a some_one_."

"Who?" Beaver asked, just before lifting his glass to his hairy lips and taking a swig.

Terence bowed his head, and answered, in a voice so soft the Beavers almost didn't hear him, "Tumnus."

Hearing this, Beaver accidentally spat his beer right back into the beaker. Wiping his mouth on the back of his paw, he said incredulously, "Excuse me?"

"Did you say 'Tumnus'?" asked Mrs. Beaver, every bit as stunned.

Terence did not look up, but the look of torment that twisted his handsome, youthful face said it all.

"You're hiding from your own best mate?" Beaver said, unable to believe it.

"He _was_ my best mate," said Terence heavily, still not looking up. "But not anymore. After what happened between us, I'll never be able to look him in the face again."

Now the Beavers felt their disbelief melt into heartache.

Mrs. Beaver asked solicitously, "Oh, Terence, what happened?"

Beaver added gravely, "Must have been terrible to have cost you your relationship with Tumnus."

Terence buried his face in his hands. "Even more terrible than you can imagine," he groaned into his palms. "I can't bear to repeat it…but let it suffice for me to say the fault is entirely mine. I've done something completely awful to Tumnus, something I never truly intended to do, but I ended up doing it anyway."

"Oh, Terence," Mrs. Beaver whispered, and she immediately arose from her place, moved around the table, and put her small, soft brown arms around the devastated youth.

Beaver's mind reeled at the revelation. Terence and Tumnus had been the very best of friends for years. More than good friends, they were brothers.

They had always been on the best of terms with each other; they went together like icing on a cake. No one else in Narnia that Beaver knew of had ever been so warm and close-knit. What could Terence have done so horrible as to destroy such a long, beautiful relationship? It was as if the White Witch had started giving out flowers.

When Terence finally raised his head and opened his eyes, he pleaded with Mrs. Beaver, "May I stay here, with you? I can't very well stay at Cair Paravel, and I've got nowhere else to go."

"Of course, Terence," Mrs. Beaver soothed him. "You may stay, for as long as you like."

"For as long as it takes for you to patch things up with Tumnus," Beaver added.

"Then I may as well be here forever," said Terence miserably, sinking his head into his hands once more, shaking it slowly from side to side. The Beavers felt their hearts break for him at that, for both him and Tumnus. Mrs. Beaver held the poor man closer, stroking him as if he were her own little kit, and Beaver found he was no longer quite so thirsty for beer, nor quite so hungry for fish. After a few minutes, for the mere sake of having something to do with his hands, Terence said softly, "Here…I…I'll take some bread, I think."

* * *

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Terence or the Beavers, Tumnus the faun was huddled alone in a shadowy corner of a room at Castle Cair Paravel, with his legs drawn and his hands cradling his head. It was the very same room that used to belong to Terence, before the white-haired youth mysteriously disappeared.

Where he'd gone, nobody knew; but Tumnus was more than convinced this was all his fault. He had really let Terence have it earlier. The faun couldn't recall a time when he'd been any more livid, when he had shouted any louder. Aside from shouting, he said terrible things to Terence's face, things that he never told the young man before. Just thinking about the vicious words that sprang from his tongue was enough to make Tumnus sick. Most of those words, he didn't even remotely mean…but it was already too late, and the damage was already done.

Alone in the unlit room, hands over his feverish face, Tumnus repented of his appalling treatment of Terence, and wished with all of his heavy heart that his dear friend was here now, so that he could plead for the young man's forgiveness. Despite what Terence had done, Tumnus knew what he, himself, had done was inexcusable, and unforgivable.

The very last words he uttered to the youth were "_I hate you_".

_Oh, dear Aslan, _Tumnus thought inconsolably, _what have I done? What have I done? _

At that last thought, hot tears began to flow from the faun's eyes, running freely against his palms, and he bent down a little further and lapsed into a flood of wretched sobbing.

* * *

"You can sleep here, Terence," said Beaver, leading the young man into an alcove on one side of the dam that was reserved for special guests, opposite from where he and Mrs. Beaver usually slept. There was a fairly large mattress there, stuffed with clean, fresh straw, and there were several thick pillows and a coarse, handwoven blanket.

Overall, the bed wasn't much of a sight, but it looked reasonably comfortable. At any rate, it was better than sleeping outside, in the bitter cold.

"Thank you, Beaver," said Terence fervently. "This is far more than I deserve."

"It's no trouble at all, dear," said Mrs. Beaver, who had come up from behind with a mug of hot, frothy milk in her forepaws. As Terence tentatively seated himself on the rough coverlid, Mrs. Beaver shambled up to him and gently pressed the steaming mug into his hands. "Here," she insisted, "drink this. It will do you a world of good."

"Thank you," Terence mumbled again, and he took a few sips. Though the milk tasted wonderful, rich and creamy with a touch of vanilla, it did nothing to warm his spirits.

Terence eventually returned the mug to Mrs. Beaver, then he stretched himself out on the bed, leaving his clothes on. He rolled over onto his side, so that his back faced the Beavers. As he lay there, Mrs. Beaver tenderly covered him with the heavy blanket. "If you need anything, dear," she whispered to the young man, just before they left him in peace, "don't hesitate to let us know." Terence felt her paw brush lightly against him one last time, and he heard Beaver quietly bid him goodnight, but he neither moved nor responded in any way.

When the Beavers had gone, Terence did not go to sleep, but rather remained wide-awake.

He could feel his loneliness enclosing him, like the bars of a cage, and he began to tremble. He had often been on his own throughout his life, but never before had he felt this alone. The loss of Tumnus was like a raw, gaping wound on Terence's heart, and knowing there was no one to blame for this except himself only made the pain all the more agonizing.

Without Tumnus, he had nothing left. There was nothing left to live for, nothing left to hope for or believe in.

Terence yearned from the very root of his soul to go back to the faun, to go back to Cair Paravel…but he knew he could never go back.

He could never show his face to Tumnus, or anyone at the Cair, ever again. This was where he belonged, now. This modest dam was his new home.

Terence closed his eyes, feeling warm tears pooling up within them, and he turned and buried his face deep in his pillow, so that the Beavers would not hear him cry himself to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**LOST AND FOUND**

_Oh, boy, am I glad this thing has been updated, at last! This one's been left on the back burner for months. Also, writing has been a bit slow lately, since finals are just around the corner and things at school are picking up. But I like to work on my stories (and my art) when I'm not so busy; it helps to relax me. It also helps me channel my emotions, when I'm feeling down, or when it seems nothing's going right. In this chapter, we find out exactly what happened between Terence and Tumnus to cause such a rift. It's short, but sad, so you'll want to have a tissue or two handy. _

_As always, I look forward to your reviews, but spare me the flames. I know I can't please everybody, but if you don't like my stories, you don't have to stay here, and no one said you had to read this in the first place. If you have to criticize me, at least do us all a favor and make it constructive. I can handle being told where improvement can be made. Just don't insult me outright, okay?_

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* * *

Characters (except Terence) © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Terence and Story © unicorn-skydancer08 **

_**All rights reserved. **_

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CHAPTER 2  
**

In his own chamber at Cair Paravel, Tumnus rushed about from here to there, snatching up everything within reach and throwing it with all his might. He hurled one of the fine china cups from his tea set against the wall, causing the thing to shatter into a hundred pieces. Then the faun gave one of the chairs a powerful kick with his hoof, sending it tumbling halfway across the room. After that, he flung the pillows off his bed, and proceeded to knock the books from his shelves, one by one. And all that time, he was weeping so hard he could hardly see straight.

When at last Tumnus ceased the demolition of his room, he fell to his knees in the middle of the floor, covering his wet face with his hands.

He let the tears flow, the sobs wrenching agonizingly from his throat. "_Why?_" he wailed to the heavens, his voice garbled by his tears and his palms. "He was my brother! How could I have done this to him? How could I have treated him so horribly? How could I have been such a beast? Oh, Terence, I'm sorry—I'm _sorry!_"

The faun's voice broke off, and he bent down further and wept freely, while inexpressible guilt bled throughout his entire body, like blood from a gaping wound.

How long he remained in that spot, how long he sobbed his heart and soul out, he knew not; but he ultimately sensed that someone was standing over him.

He felt a tentative hand on his shoulder, and Lucy's tremulous voice said, "Tumnus?"

Very slowly, Tumnus lifted his dripping face from his hands. Though the tears that continued to flow steadily obscured his sight, he easily recognized Lucy. She knelt beside him, and she pressed something into his hands that he knew right away to be a handkerchief. Tumnus didn't hesitate to take it and bury his face in its soft, sweet-scented folds.

When he finally looked up again, his vision had cleared considerably; he could see Lucy much better now. She looked just as upset as he felt, if not more.

"Do you hate me, Tumnus?" she asked at one point, sounding greatly afraid.

Stunned at the question, Tumnus gasped, "Hate you? Why should I hate _you, _Lucy? You have done nothing wrong!"

To his distress, the girl ducked her head and hid her beautiful face in her hands, and now _she _was the one crying hysterically. Heartsick, Tumnus immediately reached out to take Lucy into his arms, but she turned away before he could even touch her. "Lucy—Lucy!" he protested, forgetting his own pain for the moment. "Dearest, whatever is the matter?"

"Oh, Tumnus," Lucy groaned, sounding as if she were being tortured, "forgive me! Oh, please, _forgive_ me! I'm such a terrible person—the most terrible person in Narnia, if not all the world!"

Tumnus could feel tears spilling afresh from his own eyes at these agonizing words. "How can you say that?" was the only reply he could think of.

Lucy dared to look the faun in the face, her wet eyes and cheeks shining like diamonds, but she kept her distance from him; she even cowered slightly, as if she feared he would strike her.

"It's all because of me that Terence is gone," she lamented.

"No, it was _my_ fault," Tumnus never hesitated to contradict, his tears now falling thicker and faster. "_I'm_ the one who betrayed him."

"You don't understand, Tumnus," Lucy sobbed. "I'm the one who misled Terence, to begin with. I _let_ him kiss me! He didn't even know he was doing anything wrong in the first place!"

"What?"

Dipping her head, so that her long red-gold hair shrouded her face, Lucy explained disconsolately, "I should have told Terence sooner that you and I were already involved in a relationship…but I wasn't sure how to break it to him, without hurting him. When we were alone together on the balcony, he confessed to me, in a very heartfelt way, just how he felt about me. He told me that he loved me, actually _loved_ me. I didn't know what to think, or what to say. The next thing I knew, Terence simply pulled me closer…and he kissed me. I didn't even try to resist."

Tumnus knew the rest of the story: he soon came out onto the balcony himself, and discovered Terence and Lucy with their lips interlocked. At first, the faun was so shocked at what he was seeing that he couldn't move or speak. Then his shock switched to insane, blinding fury. Most of the time, Tumnus was an extremely mild-mannered person…but by Aslan, he hit the roof. When Terence realized what he was doing, when he saw Tumnus standing there, he tried to explain, but Tumnus was too infuriated to listen. He'd called Terence a lot of disgusting names, spouted a stream of passionate words neither Terence nor Lucy even knew were in his vocabulary. When Lucy tried to intervene, Tumnus paid her no heed in the slightest.

The faun accused Terence of being a rat, a swindler, a back-stabber, an all-out philanderer. When Terence tried to get away from the faun, Tumnus had thrown several small objects that were within range at him, never intending to actually hit him, but meaning to drive him away, to ensure that the man wouldn't dare come back.

"_I hate you!_" he'd all but screamed, as Terence desperately fled the room. "_I hate you!_"

No sooner had Terence gone from sight than Lucy ran away herself, in tears, leaving Tumnus entirely to himself. Only then did Tumnus come to his senses, and realize the atrocity of what he had just done. To say that he felt guilty would be a grievous understatement; he thought he was going to be physically ill on the spot.

"I'm sorry!" Lucy wailed desolately, when Tumnus would say nothing. "If only I'd told Terence the truth, none of this would have happened! Forgive me, Tumnus—oh, forgive me!"

With that, she dropped her face into her hands again and collapsed once more into pitiful sobs that rattled her entire frame.

Tumnus only sat where he was, frozen like a statue, stricken beyond words. It was as though the very floor just split apart beneath him.

_Terence didn't even know._

Tumnus wouldn't have believed it was possible to feel any worse than he already was, yet the sick feeling inside him intensified spectacularly. His very heart felt like someone had run a two-edged sword directly through it. By the Lion's Golden Mane, what had he _done? _Terence could _never_ betray him!

Had the young man known the truth about Tumnus and Lucy, he wouldn't have dared touch Lucy. Tumnus should have known that beforehand; he ought to have used better judgment.

No wonder Terence ran away. The poor boy—what must he think of Tumnus? Surely, he must hate the faun for this.

Tumnus wanted to kill himself for saying such things to the white-haired youth.

_Terence,_ the faun thought plaintively, though his voice failed him entirely, and he could not so much as move his lips. _Oh, Terence…_

* * *

Early the next morning, Terence woke up feeling strangely stiff.

With a groan, the youth rolled onto his back, placing a hand over his eyes. When he removed his hand a moment later and glanced around, he didn't recognize his surroundings, at first. Instead of his giant feather bed at the Cair, he found himself lying on a squat straw mattress, covered with a heavy homespun blanket. Instead of the gleaming marble walls and the fine tapestries of the castle, he saw makeshift walls built entirely out of wood and stone, all plastered together with mud. Several knickknacks hung here and there from overhead, on long pieces of twine. It was a minute before Terence remembered he was at the Beavers' dam—and the agony from before returned full-force, like a violent kick in the guts. Notwithstanding the many tears he'd shed the previous night, Terence's eyes filled up afresh, causing everything around him to blur and distort. His throat was so tight he could hardly swallow; the rocklike pain in his chest pressed down so heavily he could scarcely breathe. Covering his face with his pillow, Terence gave release to the flow once more, as his broken heart shattered all over again.

Tumnus was gone. He'd lost his best and only friend in Narnia, in every sense of the word. Their relationship was completely destroyed, beyond their or anyone's power to repair.

And Lucy…surely, she had to hate Terence as much as Tumnus did, if not more.

_How could I have taken advantage of her like that? _Terence thought woefully. _How could I have done this to her, and to Tumnus? What was I thinking? Why didn't I think sooner? If I'd known in advance that they were already involved with each other, that Lucy was already in love with someone else, I would never have kissed her in the first place. I would never have laid so much as a finger on her! No matter how much it would have hurt me to have Lucy love Tumnus rather than me, I could never willfully betray my brother—never!_

But he _had_ betrayed Tumnus, willfully or not, and now the damage was done.

Terence sank his face deeper into the soft depths of his pillow, his shoulders jerking fitfully with the sobs that poured freely out of him. In no time, his pillow was soaked, but he didn't care. The finality of his relationship with Tumnus was nothing short of devastating, and the young man felt more alone than he ever had, were such a thing possible.

_Tumnus, _his heart cried out to the faun, wherever he was. _Tumnus…Tumnus…_

Hours later, when Terence's tears had run dry, and the young man felt about as empty as a hollow shell, his sharp ears caught the sound of scuffling feet.

In a moment he heard Mrs. Beaver's voice announce cheerfully, "Time to get up!"

Terence didn't move. He just lay there in his bed, as still and silent as stone.

"Rise and shine, Terence!" Mrs. Beaver persisted.

Then Mr. Beaver added, "Come on, mate, up and at 'em!"

Terence felt the Beavers whisk his blanket away from him, and that was when he finally began to show some sign of life. Groaning softly, he reluctantly pushed himself to a sitting position, his long, disheveled bangs spilling into his face as always as he lifted his head from his pillow. On the edge of the bed, he put his face in his hands once more and rubbed it wearily.

"Sleep well, dear?" Mrs. Beaver asked him, in the same hearty tone.

"Not really," Terence muttered into his palms, seeing no reason to lie to her. "No."

When he dropped his hands in the end and looked up, the Beavers saw that the boy did look rather pale; his eyes were swollen and unpleasantly red, and he seemed listless and disoriented. However, Mrs. Beaver only smiled, as best she could, and said as kindly as she could, "Would you care for a spot of breakfast?"

Terence didn't have much of an appetite this morning, notwithstanding he'd had nothing but a bit of bread and a very small portion of fish the night before, and he hadn't eaten since he left Cair Paravel beyond that. But to appease Mrs. Beaver, he nodded and answered submissively, "I suppose I could manage a little something."

He then added, "Would it be all right if I took a few minutes to freshen up, first?"

"Of course, dear," said Mrs. Beaver without hesitation.

"There's a fresh stream just behind the dam," Beaver pointed out. "The water's a mite cold, but it's clean as a whistle."

"That suits me fine." Terence knew that if he were still at the Cair, he would have been free to soak in a full, deep tub of steaming water and scented bubbles. He remembered how the warm water and the soft foam would feel so good that he would often slide all the way under the surface and recline on the floor of the tub, for as long as he could hold his breath.

But he wasn't living at the Cair anymore. He would simply have to make the most of it here.

So, in resignation, Terence rose to his feet, taking care to duck lest he bang his head on the roof of the dam, and made his way out the back.

The morning was bright and clear, but very crisp. The sky was painted with a beautiful rosy hue, and the sun, which hadn't quite fully risen over the trees, sent out a flood of rich golden light.

Terence headed for the small blue stream that trickled through the trees, about a yard or so from the dam.

Just as Beaver had said, the water was as clear as glass, but it was like liquid ice when Terence dipped his hands into it. Vigorously, Terence washed his hands, and, ducking his head further and taking a deep breath, rinsed his face thoroughly. He also splashed some water along his neck, rubbing the moisture on every side.

When he was through, his hands were numb with the cold, so he breathed gently on them and tucked them under his arms to try to warm them.

He remained at the stream's edge for a minute or so longer, gazing down at his rippling reflection. What he saw disgusted him; at one point, the young man even seized a nearby rock and hurled it into the water to shatter the image. Then he stood up again and walked briskly back to the dam, exerting his best efforts to not look at anything, especially the forest.

Later, when he'd joined the Beavers once again, they offered him some tea and toast, enriched with Mrs. Beaver's succulent blackberry jam. Terence was reminded painfully of all the times he would share tea with Tumnus. He remembered how Tumnus would serve the tea in special cups, and how there was always plenty of milk, sugar, and cream to go with it. He also remembered how Tumnus would provide sardines, as well as boiled eggs, toast with butter and honey, and, on special occasions, those neat little cakes topped with sugar.

Sometimes, during tea, Tumnus would take out his little double-ended pipe and start playing, while Terence, who had a voice as haunting as Tumnus's music, sang to the melody.

A single tear slid down Terence's cheek at these relentless memories, and it fell into his cup of tea, mingling with the hot brown liquid.

Despite the ugly falling-out with Tumnus, he kept expecting the faun to be there, even though he knew full well his best friend wasn't going to be there, would never be there again.

That part of his life was over.

"You all right, Terence?" Beaver asked mildly. Just looking at Terence told him the young man was anything _but_ all right, yet he felt the need to ask the question just the same.

To stave off the moment when he would have to think about Tumnus again, Terence centered his gaze upon both Beavers and told them, "Since it looks like I'll be around for a while, I may as well work to earn my keep. Have you any work for me to do? Are there any particular tasks, any special errands you would have me run?"

"That's very thoughtful of you, dear," said Mrs. Beaver. "But that's all right, we don't mind in the least—"

"No," said Terence obstinately. "I refuse to be a free-loader. You have been more than kind enough to take me in; it's only fair that I work for you in exchange. I'm not a charity case."

Besides, he thought, he couldn't just mope around, and drown in his misery. At least he could subsume his grief in manual labor.

Mrs. Beaver shook her head ruefully. Terence could be quite stubborn at times, more so than two centaurs and a griffin, but she could also see the young man's point. Perhaps work would help alleviate his sorrow over Tumnus, prevent his pain from devouring him completely. Mrs. Beaver knew that when _she_ was despondent, it helped to keep busy.

So, she gave in. "Very well," she said, "you can help us around the house."

"What can I do?" Terence asked expectantly.

The Beavers looked briefly at one another, before Beaver answered slowly, "Oh…odd jobs, here and there. Carrying water, cutting down wood, cleaning fish…"

"The dam could use a patch or two, as well," Mrs. Beaver put in. "And if you can dig a ditch for us, that would also be very beneficial."

"Just, you know," said Beaver, with a slight shrug, "anything the missus and I need a little extra help with."

Without hesitation, Terence said, "I'll do it."


	3. Chapter 3

**LOST AND FOUND**

_So begins a fresh new chapter. Hard to imagine it's been months since I began this, and I only got about three chapters done so far. Ah, well, as painfully slow as this story's taking, I can't really complain about the quality. And I guess that's simply the way it is with writers: you never know when it's gonna hit you. You can't bring inspiration about by force; you need to let the inspiration come to you. Sounds corny, I know, but I'll bet there are tons of authors out there who will agree with that statement. And, like I keep saying over and over, I have yet to call it quits on a story._

_ No matter how long it takes, this thing will be done, one day or another. If I can finish "Tragedy and Triumph", "The Guardian", and "The Prodigal" (and believe me, as beautiful as those stories are, they were a total nightmare to write out), surely I can complete this. Besides, I can't leave Terence and Tumnus in the lurch like this. They gotta make up somehow.  
_

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* * *

Characters (except Terence) © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Terence and Story © unicorn-skydancer08 **

_**All rights reserved. **_

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CHAPTER 3  
**

Peter, Susan, and Edmund were very worried. Something was not right with Lucy, or with Tumnus, for that matter. They knew the girl and the faun were deeply upset about Terence…but they began to suspect it might be more than that. Maybe it was just them, but Tumnus and Lucy seemed unable to stay in the same room with each other. They rarely spoke to each other directly anymore; they couldn't even _look _at each other anymore, not without one bursting into tears and running away from the other.

Three days after Terence had gone missing, Peter and Edmund were walking through the Cair together, when presently they came across Tumnus and Lucy in the same corridor. When Peter spoke to them, though he spoke quite gently, Tumnus promptly turned and fled on the spot. He never said a word—just took off like the place was on fire.

Although Edmund and Peter could not see the faun's face, they heard a tragic sob from him before he was completely out of their sight.

Like Tumnus, Lucy said nothing, either; only buried her face in her hands and blindly made way for her room, keeping her face hidden the entire time.

Peter and Edmund regarded them both with heartfelt pity.

"Oh, dear," said Peter in a hushed voice, when the two had gone. He pulled at his thick beard, as he often did when he was thinking, or when he was troubled. "This must be more serious than I'd thought." Turning to his brother, he said softly, "Maybe we should talk to them, try to find out what the_ real_ problem is with those two. Think it's worth a try, Ed?"

Edmund agreed. "I'll deal with Tumnus," he said, as he started to hurry away.

This left Peter to handle their sister alone, so without hesitation, the eldest king headed swiftly for Lucy's chambers.

It wasn't hard for Edmund to track Tumnus down. He found the faun well outside the castle, in the garden, slumped on one of the stone benches. Tumnus was bent over double, his hands clutching his small horns so fiercely it almost looked as if he were trying to rip them right out of his skull. His entire body was shaking visibly, and the desolate sobs and wails that emanated from him could be heard a mile off. Edmund felt a burning sting in his own eyes, and a catch in his own throat, as he viewed his poor friend in his poor state.

In two seconds, he was at the faun's side.

He sat down on the bench himself, and laid a compassionate yet cautious hand on Tumnus's trembling shoulder. "Tumnus?"

Tumnus neither moved nor spoke, only went on weeping inconsolably.

"Tumnus," Edmund persisted. "Please, look at me. Talk to me. What is it?" Ultimately, Tumnus did relinquish his grip on his horns and lift his agonized face to Edmund's, but still he would not speak, though tears continued to stream relentlessly down his cheeks. His bright blue eyes were the essence of grief. "Come, now, my friend," Edmund gently urged him. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'll listen." When Tumnus remained silent, Edmund decided to cut to the chase. "Does this have to do with Terence? Or, is it something beyond that?"

At the mention of Terence, a look of sick despair twisted Tumnus's handsome features.

"_Terence!_" he groaned, sounding as though he were being literally torn apart, and he plunged his face into his hands and howled like a wounded animal.

Even when Edmund enveloped the brokenhearted faun in his arms and embraced him, he did not stop. At a loss of all else, Edmund simply closed his eyes and held Tumnus very quietly, kissing his brother gently several times and wishing for some way to end the pain that rent him like this. He thought back to all the times Tumnus would console him when _he_ was upset. Now, the situation was reversed, and he was the one to bestow comfort upon Tumnus. The faun was always there for him; now it was his turn to be there for the faun.

"Oh, my poor Terence," Tumnus managed to choke out at one point, hands still over his face. "I'll never forgive myself for this. Never, never, never…"

Easing his hold on his friend a little, Edmund gently questioned, "Why? You've done nothing wrong, Tumnus."

Tumnus did not look up, but he wept, "You wouldn't say that, if you knew, Ed. I've done a terrible thing—something truly horrible. By Aslan, I could just _die!_"

"There, now," said Edmund softly, in his best attempt to calm him, "take it easy. It's all right, Tumnus; it's all right. Shh, I promise, it's going to be all right." He pulled Tumnus closer, and Tumnus didn't even try to resist. His tears soaked Edmund's clothes as he pressed his feverish forehead abjectly to the young man's shoulder, but Edmund didn't care.

"Why don't you tell me all about it?" asked the Just King, as he continued to hold him tenderly. "Start from the beginning."

* * *

"Lucy?" Peter called out mildly, as he stood in the open doorway of his sister's bedchamber.

At the other end of the chamber, Lucy lay on her four-poster bed in a desolate heap, sobbing unreservedly. It was impossible to make out her face, as it was buried deep in the depths of a thick pillow, and her long hair fanned out in all directions. She made no sign of having heard Peter, so he stepped over the threshold and fully entered the room.

He could tell Lucy was a complete, all-out wreck. He had never seen her like this before, not even when their father left them to go to war.

When he came to a stop at her bedside, he asked in his softest, most compassionate tone, "What's wrong, Lu?" This time, he knew he'd gotten her attention, for Lucy very slowly raised her head, revealing her splotched, tear-soaked face. Her streaming eyes were a shocking shade of red. Peter felt his heart twist at the sight. Dear Aslan, what in all of Narnia could have possibly come about to hurt his sister this badly? Was she truly that broken up about Terence, or was it something more? "Lucy," he said again, solicitously, "are you all right?"

Shakily, Lucy pushed herself to a sitting position. With the sleeve of her dress, she brushed futilely at her moist cheeks.

"Whatever is the matter?" Peter gently pressed on. "Is it Terence? Or, is something else wrong?"

Lucy could hardly speak, due to the thick sobs that clogged her throat. The only distinguishable words she could get out were, "Peter…Terence…I…something dreadful…"

Then, she simply covered her face once more and broke into a fresh torrent.

"There, there," Peter soothed his sister, as he moved in closer and took a seat alongside her on the bed. "It's all right, Lu. Whatever it is, we'll find a way to set it right." Lucy made no resistance as Peter gently lifted her onto his lap, as if she were eight years old all over again, and wrapped her warmly in his big, strong arms. She even turned toward him and buried her face in his chest, so that her tears seeped into his rich tunic. Peter sat very still and let her cry for a time. Though he was the High King, he felt his position shift for the time being.

For now, he was not a king, nor his sister a queen. The titles, the eminence, and the prestige were all set aside, like a book on a shelf.

In that room, at that moment, Peter was just a big brother, trying his best to comfort his baby sister.

By the time Lucy couldn't cry anymore, when she'd run out of tears and her ragged breathing eased to some extent, she didn't pull away from Peter, but continued to huddle forlornly against his chest, her face nestled against his garments. Keeping a steadfast hold on her, his fingers toying lightly with her silky hair, Peter whispered into her ear, "Now, tell me everything."

* * *

"Here's the last of the wood, Mrs. Beaver," said Terence, unable to help grunting just a little as he staggered with the heavy load of timber he'd garnered from the trees.

"Goodness, Terence!" Mrs. Beaver declared, as the youth deposited his load in the appropriate spot, outside the dam. "You've brought nearly enough wood to build_ two_ dams."

Terence sighed as he sank wearily onto a flat rock, granting his aching arms a much-needed rest. His face glistened and dripped with perspiration, and his silvery hair and goatee trailed down in limp, tangled strands. He never recalled working so hard in his life. It wasn't that the Beavers were asking a lot from him—quite the contrary, they asked for little more than the bare minimum—but he always did twice as much as was required, sometimes three times, even four and five.

He knew he was pushing himself, perhaps a little too far, but he didn't care. He even welcomed the fatigue, and the painful twinges of his muscles. The harder he worked, the less he focused on Tumnus; the more time he spent on tough labor, the less time he had to dwell on the loss of his friend and his permanent exile from the Cair.

While Terence attempted vainly to push his damp hair out of his eyes, Mrs. Beaver waddled up to him and informed him, "Don't you think you might be overdoing it just a little, dear?"

Terence only looked at her somewhat incredulously, and breathed out, "What?"

"As much as we appreciate your help around here," said Mrs. Beaver benevolently, "you mustn't feel the need to work yourself to the bone. You're not a slave, you know."

"Oh, no, Mrs. Beaver," Terence interjected, "it's no trouble at all, really. It's all right, I don't mind."

"But, dear, just these past three days alone, you've done nothing but work, work, work, from morning till night. You do far much more than what Beaver and I ask of you. You bring us more wood and water than is entirely necessary, and you gather enough berries and nuts to satisfy an army. We love how you're helping us out, but we don't like to see you run yourself ragged. You're our guest, not our servant." When Terence could find nothing appropriate to say to this, Mrs. Beaver added very softly, "Why don't you go back to Cair Paravel? I'm sure they miss you."

To this, Terence shook his head adamantly, and vowed, "Oh, no—I'm_ never_ going back to the Cair. Not now, not ever."

"Why not? Surely, they must all be wondering what's happened to you. Tumnus must be dreadfully worried."

"No, he's not," Terence contradicted.

"How do you know?"

"After what he and I went through, he'll be glad to have seen the last of me."

"Is he that sort of faun?" Mrs. Beaver looked at the white-haired boy very meaningfully.

Terence bowed his head. "Until now, I wouldn't have believed it."

Mrs. Beaver was still at an utter loss of just what could have gone so horribly wrong between Terence and Tumnus. Beaver was at an equal loss; Terence flat-out refused to discuss the incident with either of them. "Whatever happened, Tumnus should have had plenty of time to cool down by now," she said. "Perhaps, at this time, he will be more approachable."

Unexpectedly, but not surprisingly, tears welled in Terence's sapphire eyes. The youth had done a great deal of weeping in the last three days, mostly in the long, lonely hours of the night, when his work was finished and he was left to himself. Mrs. Beaver's heart sickened at the agonizing sorrow reflected in his face. "You don't understand," Terence quavered, as a single, bright tear slid down his cheek. "You didn't see Tumnus, or hear him. He was so _angry_." He faltered briefly, before adding on tremulously, "I—I never want to see him that angry again."

"Terence…" Mrs. Beaver began yet again.

"No," Terence repeated, brushing away a second tear. "I can never show my face to him again. He and I are finished. This is where I belong, with you, and Beaver. You're all I have left."

Mrs. Beaver opened her mouth once more, but then closed it a second later, unsure of what to say after that last bit. Right at that time, Beaver showed up, hauling along a large basket that held a good number of freshly caught fish from the stream. "Oi, Terence!" he called to the boy. "Could you give me a hand or two over here, mate?"

Terence promptly stood up again. "Sure thing, Beaver," he answered, after making sure he could keep his voice reasonably steady.

As the unicorn youth helped Beaver with his load, he couldn't help remarking, "That's quite a catch."

"Oh, yes," Beaver heartily agreed. "We'll certainly be eating well tonight."

Once they set the basket down, near a slightly smaller creek that was within closer range of the dam, Beaver said, "I could use some help cleaning these fish, Terence, if you wouldn't mind."

Terence eyed the fish skeptically. "They look fine to me, Beaver."

"No, I meant, from the inside-out," said Beaver, and he brandished a small knife to show Terence what he meant.

Terence's eyes now widened with surprise and horror as it dawned on him, and his face went pale. "You don't mean—"

"That's right, my boy. Gotta take out everything that's inside."

Terence pulled a grimace. "I always thought you simply threw the fish straight into the pan after you caught them, then you fried them and added a few spices, and you were done."

"Nope," Beaver replied, shaking his shaggy brown head. "First you need to hollow them out, and _then _you cook them. They're better for you that way, and they taste better, too."

Seeing the appalled look on Terence's face, he said gently, "Unless you'd rather do something else, that's all right with me."

But Terence reached for a knife of his own that was strapped to his belt, and said resignedly, "No, no. There's no way you can clean all these fish by yourself before they go bad. I'll help."

Since Terence had never cleaned a fish in his life, Beaver had to show the boy the proper way to do it. "First, you gotta remove the scales," Beaver instructed, "like this." He took a large fish in one paw, and used his knife to scrape away the scales, using the dull edge of the blade, making short, deft strokes, from the tail to the head. Even though Terence knew it couldn't hurt the fish, since the fish was already dead, he winced in sympathy as he watched the shiny, protective flakes break off with every swipe of the knife.

He followed Beaver's example, while inwardly praying to the deceased fish for forgiveness.

Once the fish were stripped of all their scales, Beaver then demonstrated how to properly cut them open, from the gills to the vent, in order to remove the innards.

Terence's stomach gave an unpleasant turn, and he almost became violently sick on the spot when he saw how Beaver pulled out the slimy entrails with his own bare claws, and when a positively revolting smell from within the cavity of the fish assaulted Terence's senses. Even after they'd dumped the guts and bowels into the stream, and rinsed out the fish well in the water, the horrible stench continued to linger. Terence doubted he would ever forget it. "Are you all right?" Beaver asked the boy, at one point.

"I'll live," said Terence, as he now attempted to wash the blood and residue from his hands, as well as his knife.

He couldn't help adding, however, "But now I remember why I very rarely touch meat."


	4. Chapter 4

**LOST AND FOUND**

_Gee, looks like a lot of my old stories are making a comeback! That's really great! I'm as excited as the rest of you, if not more. I'm especially thrilled to be finally updating this particular story.  
_

* * *

**Characters (except Terence) © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Terence and Story © unicorn-skydancer08 **

_**All rights reserved. **_

* * *

**CHAPTER 4  
**

"And that's what happened," said Tumnus after he had finished telling Edmund his tale of woe.

Edmund, overwhelmed by what he'd just heard, could only sit and stare at the faun in a mix of disbelief, sorrow, and grave pity. When he found his tongue again, he could barely whisper, "Tumnus…I…I didn't know."

Dropping his face once more into his hands, Tumnus groaned, "I can't believe I could have done such a thing like this. I don't know what came over me. I was so thoughtless, so _stupid_. Terence must surely hate me. He'll most likely never forgive me, never want to have anything to do with me ever again—and I don't blame him if that's the case." He shook his head dismally. "Oh, Edmund, I would give up everything I have in the world in a heartbeat if only he would come back. I swear to surrender even my hopeless love for Lucy. I just want my brother back."

Edmund could feel the pure potency of Tumnus's pain as much as he heard it. Seeing the poor creature in this pitiful state was almost more than he could stand.

After listening to the faun's rattling sobs for another minute, the Just King wrapped his arm around his companion's shoulders one more time and told him softly, "Come with me, Tumnus; we'll go get Peter. He will know what to do."

* * *

At that same moment, Lucy was just finishing telling Peter her version of the story, making it sound like she was the one responsible for the whole mess. She expected Peter to be outraged, or to at least show some sign of disgust. Quite the contrary, however, Peter only regarded his poor sister with love and sympathy. "Oh, _Lucy_," was all he said in a hushed voice.

"What will I do, Peter?" Lucy agonized, her voice muffled by her palms. "How can I live with myself? Terence is gone, and I don't know where in all the world to find him. I cannot abide the thought of him wandering out there, all alone; most especially the thought of him being angry with me and hating me. I'm a rotten friend—I doubt I could even be considered his friend anymore—but I'll do anything, trade in everything, to get him back."

"We'll get him back," Peter assured her. "I promise you that, Lu, with my very life."

Very slowly, Lucy lifted her dripping face to his. "W-we will?" she quavered. "I-is there h-hope?"

"There is always hope," he replied vigorously. "And I'm going to help you personally with this."

"You will?"

"We'll organize a search party—today, right now. We'll use the best of our centaurs, griffins, wolves, and dogs. We'll search high and low; Terence can't have gone too far. If all goes well, we may track him down before the day is through."

Lucy was so grateful when she heard this that she cried new tears, and all she could do was hug Peter fiercely round the neck until she nearly choked him.

* * *

At the Beavers' dam, Terence was taking a break, for a change. When he'd asked the Beavers if there was any more work for him to do, they insisted that he rest himself. "Can't have you dropping dead on us, mate," said Beaver.

Though Terence insisted that he was stronger and more durable than he looked, Mrs. Beaver told him, "Really, dear, you should take some time to rest, to actually enjoy the rest of the world around you."

Terence saw no need to remind her that there was no joy to be found in this world for him, not after what he'd been through with Tumnus and Lucy. But the boy did end up going for a little stroll around the forest. He wasn't going anywhere special, just around. Needless to say, thoughts of Tumnus bombarded him as he walked.

Tumnus's memory was strong, no matter where Terence was, yet it was in the woods that the memory was the most potent. Terence recalled that it was in the forest that he'd met the faun—and Lucy—for the very first time. He remembered being somewhat scornful at the idea of a creature being two creatures—or was it three? Though mostly wild goat, Tumnus did have a bit of stag in him, too—in one.

However, it hadn't been long after meeting Tumnus and getting to know him better that Terence began to actually like him, and within a short time, they became genuine friends.

Terence had not been close to many people in his life. Even among his own kind, he was never sure he quite fit in. There was no one he could really talk to, truly relate to. Most people, including other unicorns, kept their distance from him, like he was carrying some contagious disease. Some were kind enough to him, but they could hardly be considered "friends". Before he came to Narnia, before he knew that such a place even existed, Terence's closest companion by far had been his own mother. But she was gone, now—had been gone for many, many years. Though Terence knew perfectly well how to look after himself, though he pretended to not mind being on his own, what he wanted more than anything in the world was a friend.

It had always been his deepest, sorest desire to have someone, if only one person, in his life who actually noticed him, who actually cared about him.

When Tumnus came along…he was truly a godsend. The faun proved to be everything that a true, honest friend was, and more. He became very dear to Terence's heart, became an actual part of his heart.

Yet it proved too good to last, too valuable a treasure for him to hold.

In spite of himself, Terence couldn't help wondering what Tumnus was doing now, this very moment, if he was all right. He wondered if the faun missed him at all.

Such a thing was hard to imagine after that horrible night.

Terence wasn't exaggerating when he told Mrs. Beaver earlier that he never saw Tumnus so angry before, that he never wanted to see him that angry again—_ever_. Part of the boy was convinced the faun would have murdered him with his bare hands if he'd had the chance. Of course, Tumnus hadn't ever actually touched him, although Terence knew all too well there were far worse ways to inflict pain and damage on a person than physical blows.

While Terence was brooding over this, his keen ears and sharp instincts told him he was no longer alone in the wood. Stopping for a moment, standing as still and silent as the trees around him, he could just make out hoofbeats—and distant voices.

"_Terence!_" the voices were saying. "_Terence!_" They were as faint as the whisper of a breeze, yet there was no mistaking them.

At first, Terence thought there must be someone else in this place who went by the same name. But his heart told him it was himself they were looking for.

"_Terence! Terence! Terence!_" The voices were growing progressively louder and more distinct; Terence could definitely make out at least five or six of them. They sounded oddly familiar…

"Terence!" Another voice sounded, considerably closer than the others. Even from a distance, the passion contained therein was intense, almost tangible.

With a great start that jolted his whole body, Terence recognized the voice as Tumnus's!

Tumnus, in _these_ woods? Terence was sure his ears had to be deceiving him, but they weren't. The boy was convinced he had to have officially gone mad, but he wasn't.

"Terence! Terence, where are you? Terence!" Tumnus's desperate call sounded again and again, sounding alarmingly closer each time.

At last Terence made a move: to turn the other direction and race back to the dam, just as fast as he could. Since he was part unicorn, he made his way through the thick forest with very little noise, leaving almost no evidence that he had been there in the first place. He also made it back to the dam in record time. Beaver was just coming back from something, and he was considerably surprised to see Terence running toward him like a terrified animal fleeing from a dangerous enemy.

"Terence, what's—"

"They're coming, Beaver! They're coming! You've got to hide me!"

"What are you talking about, mate? Who's coming?"

Sliding to a stop, dropping to his knees on the ground alongside Beaver, Terence said anxiously, "Tumnus is headed this way!"

"Tumnus?" Beaver narrowed his beady little eyes and furrowed his bristly brows in a expression of complete perplexity.

"Tumnus, and a number of others; I cannot say how many, but they're hunting the forest for me, this very minute! I can't let them catch me! If they ask you, tell them that you never saw me!"

"Terence, I don't—"

"_Please!_" Terence begged, looking and sounding desperate. "Please, Beaver! You're my only hope! I'm as good as dead if Tumnus finds out I'm here!" Tears trembled in the youth's eyes. Beaver could see that his whole body was shaking like a leaf. His face was as white as his hair and beard.

If there had ever been a time in his life when Beaver was dumbfounded, he was now truly thunderstruck.

Terence was afraid of Tumnus? It didn't seem possible, not even remotely feasible.

Only a week ago, Terence and Tumnus were closer than bark on a tree. Now Terence was acting like the faun had suddenly turned into the Angel of Death, sent forth to claim his soul.

But it turned out Terence was correct in one aspect: Tumnus's voice sounded in the not-too-far distance, calling Terence's name, demanding to know his whereabouts.

With a gasp that sounded like a half-sob, Terence ducked swiftly into the dam and shut the door tightly behind him. Beaver could hear the little _click _of the lock as it was bolted into place.

It wasn't long after this had happened that Tumnus himself appeared. The faun's neck was swathed in one of his special traveling scarves, and Beaver could tell he'd done a fair amount of running himself. Tumnus's face and bare shoulders glistened with sweat, his honey-cinnamon curls were plastered to his brow, his legs were unsteady, and he could hardly get his breath, though somehow Beaver sensed his harsh breathing wasn't merely from exhaustion.

"Beaver!" Tumnus gasped, as soon as he was capable of speaking. "Have you seen Terence?"

Looking deliberately away from the faun, Beaver answered in a low voice, "I…I'm afraid I haven't, Tumnus."

"Are you sure you haven't seen him? He's got to be around here somewhere!" Tumnus's eyes were feverish. There was a note of wildness in his tone that Beaver never heard before.

Even when Tumnus was being pursued by the Secret Police, Beaver didn't think he'd seen the faun this shaken.

Beaver nearly faltered and let slip the secret, but he caught himself at the last second. "He's…I don't know, mate. There are a number of places the boy could be. Didn't you search the Cair?"

Tumnus cried out—a terrible, heart-rending cry that actually made Beaver recoil.

"_He's not in the Cair!_" Tumnus wailed. Tears broke out and flooded his face as he agonized, "I must have searched every room, from top to bottom, a thousand times over! He's nowhere to be found!"

Beaver wondered if Terence could hear what was being said on the other side of the door.

"I'm sorry, mate," he said softly, while his insides burned with pity and guilt. "Isn't there anything I can do?"

Brushing futilely at his tears, Tumnus sobbed, "If you ever see Terence, tell him to come back to me right away. Tell him I need to see him, to talk to him. Tell him—" He wavered for a time before he was able to finish. "Tell him I need _him_."

Beaver nodded solemnly. "I'll bear that in mind, mate."

With a tortured expression unlike anything Beaver had ever seen, Tumnus turned away to investigate the woods on the other side.

Even after the faun had disappeared from sight, his anguished cries sounded painfully in Beaver's ears, embedding themselves in his very heart.


End file.
